


Dragon Age Bits & Pieces

by minwrathous



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-04-27 21:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14434119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minwrathous/pseuds/minwrathous
Summary: A collection of shorter Dragon Age pieces that I've done. (Most of them are prompts that I've received on Tumblr.)Multiple relationships, with chapter titles displaying the relationships. Tags for the fic will be updated accordingly, with relationship tags added for ones that show up more than once.





	1. Fenris x M!Hawke - Chronic Cough

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in leaving a prompt for me, my Ask is open [[link](http://minwrathous.tumblr.com/ask)]! I'm slow, but I promise I will do my best! (ง •̀_•́)ง

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt [[link](http://minwrathous.tumblr.com/post/171879538667/could-i-request-fenris-andor-dorian-dealing-with)] :  
>  _“could i request fenris and/or dorian dealing with a their male partners who have a chronic cough? the kind that wont ever go away. let me know if something doesnt make sense. please take your time, there is no rush.”_

As long as Fenris had known Hawke, the man had been plagued by a cough that never seemed to leave him.

It took a bit of time for Fenris to notice. But the more work they did together, the more Fenris began to see it. Here, walking along the Wounded Coast, Hawke would have to stop as a deep cough rattled his solid frame. There, patrolling the docks at night, Hawke would try to muffle a cough before it gave away their position.

It was worst in Darktown. The choked air was unpleasant to most of the party, but to Hawke it was unbearable at times. Staying there for any prolonged stretch of time set him to wheezing and coughing until he was nearly gasping for breath.

None of their companions seemed to comment on Hawke’s ailment openly, so Fenris decided he would just have to ask the man for himself. And so one night at the Hanged Man, Fenris did.

“So you noticed then?” Hawke asked with a sheepish grin. There’d been a lull in the night’s activities, and the two were alone at the table for once.

“It’s hard not to,” Fenris replied dryly.

“Yes, well. I try not to let it get in the way of things,” Hawke explained. “I’ve had trouble with it as long as I can remember. Things got worse once we came here to Kirkwall though - Mother blames the air. Carver just blames me.” Hawke shrugged.

“You’re a mage,” Fenris said. “Can’t you do something about it?”

“Magic can’t grow me new lungs,” Hawke laughed. “If it could, believe me, I would’ve tried long ago. I’ve seen healers - Anders included - and I get the same answer. Bad luck. Bad lungs.” Hawke shrugged helplessly.

Fenris processed this for a moment. Of course Hawke would have thought about using magic. “Apologies,” he said, frowning. “If there is any way I can assist you, I will do my best.” He’d just have to keep closer watch over the mage during battle.

“No need to apologize,” Hawke said. “It’s nice to know you’re keeping an eye on me.” He flashed Fenris one of his most charming smiles and the elf felt his stomach do a little flip.

Not long after that, Hawke disappeared into the Deeproads.

When Hawke miraculously returned some time later, he brought back the wealth he needed to regain his family’s title. Hawke also brought back a worsened cough. Something in the air down there had exacerbated things, and now it was more frequent. Deeper.

It was harder to ignore, and Fenris worried. He did his best to keep an eye on the mage when they traveled together. He learned to gauge the tone of things. The rhythm. He could tell when one cough would stay one cough, or when it would turn into a fit that would halt their progress.

One such day on the Wounded Coast, he called for a halt. Anders moved to Hawke’s side and put a hand on the larger mage’s shoulder.

“Steady, Hawke,” Anders said. “Remember. You need to try and relax.” Anders moved his hand down to touch Hawke’s chest instead and Fenris bristled. “That’s the best thing for it.”

Hawke caught his breath after a moment and managed to steady himself. “It’s easy for you to say that,” he said, and cleared his throat. “I’m relaxing as hard as I can. Honestly, you don’t have to dote on me like that,” he grumbled. He seemed self-conscious over having held the group up again. “Let’s just keep going.”

Anders pulled his hand away and made a face. He caught Fenris watching the two of them and threw the elf an annoyed look.

Fenris, embarrassed, turned away. Why did he care if Anders was touching Hawke like that? It was nothing. The man was just trying to help Hawke relax. And honestly, that was how they expected to help ease the coughing? That was… Well, it hadn’t occurred to Fenris before; he’d assumed that the mages had been practicing some (ineffective) magic to sooth Hawke. Maybe they were, in a way. But trying to get the man’s lungs to relax in the middle of a fit? You couldn’t just will that to happen. You needed to… Relax.

A sudden thought struck Fenris. Of course! If magic couldn’t help Hawke cope with his affliction, then maybe Fenris had an idea.

Once they were back in Kirkwall, Fenris made his way to Darktown. He found Tomwise at his usual place and asked the man about obtaining a certain flower.

“Blueslip? Isn’t that what they also call Widow’s Kiss?” Tomwise asked, giving Fenris a suspicious look. “Who you trying to poison?”

“It’s more than a poison,” Fenris insisted. “And why does it matter? Can you get it or not?”

“Aye, I can,” Tomwise replied, still warily regarding Fenris. “But it’s going to cost you.”

Fenris agreed and paid up front. About a week later, he returned to Tomwise to collect his flower. Unfortunately, it had been harder to obtain than expected, so the cost had gone up twofold. Fenris cursed and considered his options. He didn’t have the coin now, and there was no guarantee that Tomwise would hold onto the goods until he did.

“You’re a friend of Hawke’s, aren’t you? I see you with him whenever he’s down here,” Tomwise observed as Fenris fretted over the payment. “Is this for him?”

“I…yes,” Fenris admitted.

“Oh, good. Well. Seeing as you’re his friend, I can just put it on his tab.” Tomwise smirked at him.

Fenris didn’t like it, but it was his only choice. He’d just have to pay Hawke back as soon as he could. Fenris agreed to the terms and walked out of Darktown with a small satchel of dried blue flowers.

Widow’s Kiss? That was fitting. But back in Seheron, they’d known it as blueslip. Yes, it was used as a poison. A certain dose of it would quickly stop someone’s lungs from working; the Fog Warriors had often used it as an arrow coating. But they’d also used it in medicines - a smaller amount of the flower could be mixed in with a paste that helped ease the effects of the chest colds that went around in the wet season.

It was Fenris’s hope that it would have a similar effect on Hawke. He knew it couldn’t cure the man, but it wasn’t about a cure. It was about helping to ease the symptoms.

And so Fenris went home and made the paste like he’d learned. He substituted elfroot in as the base, and added in a pinch of embrium. Last came the blueslip. He was careful as he cut and ground down the petals of one of the flowers. Once confident it was mixed correctly, he tried a small bit of it on himself. It felt right.

Now, to get it to Hawke.

Fenris decided that he needed to be there when Hawke used it for the first time, if only to make sure he didn’t use too much. So, Fenris ended up carrying the small jar around with him. He felt foolish, following after Hawke and hoping that the man would start coughing. He also felt guilty about the tab Hawke would soon find out about. Was this entire thing just one big bad idea?

Lucky for Fenris, it didn’t take long for Hawke’s lungs to betray him. It happened one night, when they were walking back from the Hanged Man together. The two of them had just finished climbing the steps Hightown. Right near the top of the stairs, the coughing began.

“Hawke,” Fenris said. “Here.” Hesitantly, he put a hand out to touch Hawke’s arm and draw him closer. He guided him out of the way, into an alcove near the stairs. “I have something for you,” Fenris said as Hawke tried to catch his breath.

As he pulled the jar out of one of his belt pouches, Hawke did his best to watch curiously. Fenris unscrewed the top and offered it to Hawke. “Here. Take a small bit of this and put it under your nose.” He gestured with his gauntleted finger at his own nostrils.

Hawke didn’t hesitate at all. He carefully took a bit of the paste and smeared it around his own nostrils. He coughed and wrinkled his nose at the strong scent of it.

“Now inhale slowly, deeply. If you can,” Fenris said, screwing the jar shut.

“Mmph,” Hawke replied. He followed the instructions as best he could. And slowly, his breathing began to even out. Fenris felt a little thrill. It was working!

“What…what is this?” Hawke asked after a moment. He looked at Fenris, eyes wide.

“A mix of elfroot and a flower called blueslip,” he said, offering the jar to Hawke. 

The man took it and looked it over, still amazed. “It…I can feel it working,” he murmured. “How?”

“It’s…well. Usually used as a poison,” Fenris admitted. “It is often called Widow’s Kiss, but I also know it as blueslip. It isn’t a cure; it only relaxes the lungs for a time. I just thought…” He trailed off. Hawke was looking at him now, a beaming smile on his face. “I thought it might help.”

Fenris was suddenly realizing how small the alcove really was. How close the two of them were in this space. He could see how beautiful Hawke’s smile was.

“I can show you how to make it. You’ll need to get the flower from Tomwise, or some other supplier,” Fenris explained. He was trying not to stare at the other man. He should also…probably tell Hawke that technically the mage had bought this batch. 

“Thank you, Fenris,” Hawke said, eyes shining with excitement, and Fenris hesitated. Maybe he’d tell him about the tab later. “It’s amazing.”

“Just be careful with it, Hawke,” Fenris said. He felt warm, pleased that he’d been able to help Hawke in a way that nobody else had. “Use it sparingly, only when things get bad. Too much of it can be dangerous.”

“That’s all right, Fenris,” Hawke replied. He was close to Fenris now. When had he gotten so very close? “I like a little danger.” Hawke was leaning in toward him. Even closer.

“Be serious,” Fenris murmured, though there wasn’t much force behind his words. Hawke...wasn’t really talking about the blueslip now, was he? No. Fenris found himself stretching up to meet Hawke.

The distance closed between them.

Fenris breathed Hawke in as their lips met. He caught the unmistakable medicinal scent of elfroot, mixed with the heavier, almost sweet floral smell of the blueslip.

They kissed.


	2. Solas x M!Inquisitor - Staring at His Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiss Prompt:  
> Solas x M!Inquisitor: _Staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in_

When Solas spoke, Shar Lavellan listened. And watched. He couldn’t help himself.

Solas was opinionated and passionate, and sometimes their conversations grew intense. Other times, Shar stayed silent and let the other man simply speak to him. Solas seemed to enjoy these times; he expressed an interest in sharing knowledge of things he’d discovered while dreaming. Solas usually spoke in Common, but there were times he switched to Elvhen.

Shar liked those times. The words sounded  _ good _ as they rolled off of Solas’s tongue. It was different from the Elvhen Shar spoke. It wasn’t the accent, or the vocabulary (of which Solas seemed to have more). There was a surety in the way Solas spoke. 

Shar wondered if Solas’s lips would kiss with that same surety. Would they be as passionate then? 

What if Shar looked up and saw Solas looking at him. What if this time, Solas’s expression reflected Shar’s? The same  _ need _ in his eyes. What if Solas moved in and pressed those lips against Shar’s? 

Warm and hungry and so sure of everything. 

Solas pushing him down onto his desk, his precious papers forgotten just this once. Solas on top of him, caging him in. And those lips against his own, speaking to him in a different way. 

“ _ Lethallin _ ?”

Shar looked up, startled. His mind had wandered, and Solas was looking at him. There was no hunger. No need. Just curiosity, and maybe a little touch of concern.

“Oh. Apologies,” Shar replied, shaking his head. He pushed back the longing that ached inside of him and offered Solas a sheepish grin instead. “I drifted for a moment. Quite embarrassing.”

“Not to worry, Inquisitor,” Solas replied. “You’ve been given a great many responsibilities recently; it is understandable that you must have much on your mind.”

“Ah, yes,” Shar nodded. “That I do.”

Solas gave him an indulgent smile, those lips curling up with one corner just a touch higher than the other. 

This time, Shar looked away .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTN: Joelle_Snow  
> MSG: You're still a monster for this one.


	3. Dorian x M!Inquisitor - Distracting Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiss Prompt:  
> Dorian x M!Inquisitor: _Kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing_

It was getting late and Dorian’s small alcove was awash with flickering candlelight. The library around him was quiet, as many of its familiar patrons were winding down for the evening. Dorian was leaning over a large tome, engrossed in a particularly lengthy piece of text, when a shadow was cast across his work area. He looked up tried not to grimace when there was a twinge of pain in his neck.

“Dorian,” Shar said. Inquisitor Lavellan stood at the mouth of the alcove, arms crossed over his chest. The elf was wearing his ‘casual’ leathers, as well as a look of mild annoyance.

“ _ Inquisitor _ ,” Dorian said, rubbing at his neck. 

Shar rolled his eyes and uncrossed his arms. “You missed dinner,” he said, moving into Dorian’s space. He perched on the arm of Dorian’s chair, close enough that Dorian could smell him - cinnamon and clove and something Dorian hadn’t yet identified beyond  _ warm _ . 

“Did I?” Dorian asked. He looked up at Shar, then back down to his work. “Apologies. I’ve only just gotten to some particularly useful bits.” He gestured at the book as if it could explain for him.

“Are you going to miss cards as well then?” Shar asked. He leaned over Dorian’s shoulder to peer at the book. The elf’s tone was light, but Dorian could sense a hint of disappointment in it. “For these useful bits?”

Cards. Shit. Dorian had forgotten. It was mid-week and there was no urgent mission, which meant that there would be cards and conversation at the tavern. Dorian usually enjoyed indulging, but tonight… Part of him really didn’t want to leave off in the middle of his readings.

“I’m afraid so,” he said. “I’m sorry, Shar.” It was still novel - calling the Inquisitor by his given name. Dorian had recently been asked to use it more.

“You’ve been working hard lately,” Shar murmured. His expression had softened at the sound of his name.

“You’re one to talk,” Dorian replied with huff. He leaned back in and scratched a note on one of his parchments. “Your steadfast work ethic is rather infamous around here.”

“Is it?” Shar asked. “Well, I suppose card night is required because of it. Are you sure you won’t join us?”

“Positive,” Dorian replied.

Shar sighed and slid from the arm of the chair. “Suit yourself,” he said. Dorian waited for him to take his leave. Instead, he suddenly felt a soft kiss placed to the side of his head. Dorian looked up in surprise and Shar took the opportunity to move his kiss around to Dorian’s cheek.

“What are you doing?” Dorian asked. Shar was close again, leaning down over him.

“Convincing you to leave your work for a bit,” the Inquisitor replied. 

“What-” 

Dorian was cut off by Shar closing the distance between them. He pressed his lips to Dorian’s and brought a hand up to lightly touch the man’s cheek. Dorian, still shocked, couldn’t help but kiss the elf back. He parted his lips to let Shar’s tongue dip into his mouth, and his hand moved up to clutch at the front of Shar’s shirt.

After a moment, Dorian had to bite back a moan as the elf sank down into the chair with him, straddling his lap.

They’d kissed before, of course. They’d stolen a few quiet moments alone here and there. They’d even had a quick fumble at one another in Dorian’s tent during their last mission. But this…

“W-wait,” Dorian said. He pushed the elf back just enough to break the kiss. It did nothing to move Shar away, which was maddening in its own right. Dorian was half-hard already, and they’d only just started  _ kissing _ . He would have felt a bit of embarrassment if it hadn’t been for the hardness he could feel pressing back down against him.

“Dorian, I swear that if you’re about to tell me to move so you can read.” Shar began.

“No, no,” Dorian replied. “It’s not that. It’s just…” He gestured with his free hand. “We’re here. In the library.” True, it was late and rather dim, but it wasn’t  _ completely _ empty. Dorian, who had lived his entire life worrying about being discreet, felt utterly exposed.

“We are,” Shar replied. His expression was kind as he gently stroked Dorian’s cheek. “Your point?”

“My point?” Dorian blinked. “My point is that we could be easily seen by anybody just walking by.”

“Ah,” Shar said. “That. Well, I’m not very worried about that.” He refrained from diving back in for another kiss though, instead watching Dorian’s expression. 

“You don’t...care,” Dorian repeated.

“Not really, no,” was Shar’s simple response. 

Dorian bit back a guffaw. Could it really be that simple? He glanced over Shar’s shoulder, taking in the empty library outside the alcove. It was dim. Quiet. His own heartbeat echoed in his ears, mixed with the ever-present rustling of Leliana’s birds drifting down from above. He could hear Shar’s breathing as well. Steady. The Inquisitor was waiting patiently.

“Well,” Dorian said. His hand drifted down to rest against Shar’s leather-clad hip. “I suppose a few more moments won’t hurt,” he admitted. His own heartbeat quickened as Shar leaned in close again.

The candlelight flickered, Dorian’s work lay completely forgotten, and the odds seemed to be against their card night attendance as well.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Shar said. His lips brushed against Dorian’s, drawing out a little smile. Shar was also smiling as they kissed again.

And again.


	4. Fenris x M!Hawke - Stay Like This Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt [[link](http://minwrathous.tumblr.com/post/172352134211/if-youre-taking-prompts-39-fenhawke-i-wish-we)] :  
>  _“If you're taking prompts #39, fenhawke, I wish we could stay like this forever. :)”_

The room was warm. Almost too warm. The air was heavy and smelled of elfroot, lyrium, and blood. There had been so much blood...

Hawke lay shirtless on top of his bed, his midsection wrapped tightly in bandages. Bandages, Fenris noted, that were no longer slowly turning red. He thought to tell Anders that the bleeding had finally subsided, but a snore from behind him informed him that the mage had already passed out in the chair by the fire.

This was Fenris’s fault - after all, he’d been the one to suggest Hawke duel the Arishok. It had been the only thing he could think of at the time! But that thought was a dagger to his own heart as he’d witnessed Hawke skewered through and dangling from the Arishok’s sword. 

But somehow, Hawke had survived. He had survived, and rallied his remaining magic in order to defeat the Qunari. 

Hawke won.

He held himself up long enough to be declared winner, then collapsed into the arms of his companions. The following hours were a blur for Fenris. Somehow, they’d gotten Hawke out of the Viscount’s Keep and back to his own home for healing. 

Watching Anders work had been nerve-wracking. More than once, the healer had snapped at Fenris for hovering too closely. Fenris had bristled, but done his best to comply. Though he still didn’t  _ like _ Anders, he trusted in his abilities when it came to healing.

And now Fenris sat at Hawke’s bedside, feeling drained. He was watching the mage sleep and wondering how such a large man could seem so frail. His own weapon and armor had been left in the entry hall. Perhaps he should take a moment to see to it, and maybe scrub some of the dried blood off of his arms and tunic. 

Instead, Fenris leaned forward in his seat and gently took one of Hawke’s hands with his own. The mage’s calloused hand was limp and far cooler than Fenris remembered. It felt right to hold his hand now though. He’d spent far too much time today worrying about losing Hawke for good.

How long he sat holding Hawke’s hand, Fenris couldn’t say. He felt into a daze, somewhere just outside of sleep’s grasp.

Fenris was pulled back to attention by a soft sigh and Hawke’s fingers flexing. His eyes snapped open and he found Hawke’s sleepy gaze fixed on him.

“Hawke,” he said.

“Fenris?” Hawke replied. He sounded drowsy.

“You’re...you’re awake,” Fenris said dumbly.

“Am I? I guess I am,” Hawke said. There was something off about his voice. Still, it was good to hear it.

Fenris fell silent, content with just holding Hawke’s hand for the moment. It was still too cool, but it was nice to feel it weakly gripping back at his own.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Hawke said softly.

“What?” Fenris stared at him.

“You’re here,” Hawke replied. His eyes were glazed over, and there was a sweet smile on his face. “You’re here, and I’m here. And you’re…” He tried to lift the hand that was clinging to Fenris’s, but couldn’t muster the strength. 

Hawke smiled again and Fenris felt it cut through him. Hawke was clearly not all there right now. Anders had warned him, hadn’t he? That some of the potions they’d given Hawke might have this sort of effect. It would dull the man’s pain, and also his senses.

“Hawke,” Fenris said. He kept his voice gentle. “You’ve had a sword run through you, and you’re lying in a sickbed. I do not think this is how you want to stay.” Fenris felt guilty that Hawke had been so badly injured in a fight he’d suggested, but he couldn’t help but return the smile that Hawke was still giving him.

Hawke craned his neck so he could look down at his own injured body. “Oh,” he said, as if he were only just realizing he was hurt. “But...you’re holding my hand.” He looked back up at Fenris, his expression so serious that Fenris had to smile and shake his head.

“I am,” Fenris agreed. 

“I didn’t think you wanted to anymore,” Hawke said. They hadn’t touched much since that night. Everything had been so awkward in the aftermath, and they were only just starting to set new boundaries for one another. Hand-holding had not been involved. Still...Fenris kept his hand right where it was, though his smile faded away.

“I think you should go back to sleep, Hawke,” Fenris replied. Now wasn’t the right time to be discussing that part of their past. No. Right now, Hawke just needed his support.

“You’re right,” Hawke said dreamily, and sighed. “Will you be here when I wake?”

Hawke looked at him expectantly. The question was so heavy with meaning - had Hawke done that on purpose? But one look at the innocent hope on Hawke’s tired face told Fenris that he was reading far too into it. Regardless, Fenris would give the same answer.

“I will,” Fenris replied. He gently squeezed Hawke’s hand.

“Oh, good.” Hawke beamed at him, then closed his eyes. He was asleep within the next minute.

Fenris released Hawke’s hand after a moment. He then leaned in and gently brushed some of the hair back from Hawke’s brow. “Sleep well,” he murmured, then sat back in his chair.

He would wait.


	5. Fenris x M!Hawke - Forever Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A follow-up to the previous prompt, because I felt bad for leaving it like that. [[link](http://minwrathous.tumblr.com/post/172427303769/xiz0r-minwrathous-i-felt-guilty-for-the)]

“I wish we could stay like this forever.”

Fenris turned his head at that, his muscles tensing in reflex upon hearing those words again. Hawke immediately adjusted his arm from where it had been slung over Fenris’s shoulder, loosening his hold a bit. He’d gotten very good at accommodating the sudden need for space that could still overcome Fenris.

“Sorry. Too much?” Hawke asked with a nervous laugh. He looked at Fenris, concern reflected in his eyes. There was a little confusion there as well. Had it been his arm? Or the words?

_He doesn’t remember saying it before_ , Fenris realized. Years had since passed, and now they were far away from that bloodied sickbed. Thinking about it still stung though.

“No,” Fenris replied after a slight hesitation. He willed himself to relax, then grabbed Hawke’s hand. Things were different now. He guided the mage’s arm back to its place around his shoulder. “It just made me think of something else for a moment.” Fenris squeezed Hawke’s hand, then looked up at the clear night sky.

Their latest job had taken just the two of them out into the more rural parts of the Marches. Hawke, not one to waste an opportunity, had insisted that this was the perfect time to take in some stargazing. The two of them had been quietly taking in the expanse of the summer sky when Hawke had murmured those familiar words.

“Oh,” Hawke said, relieved. “Good. I think. Well, maybe it’s still too much to say. I mean, I don’t imagine you fancy being stuck here in a field with me for all of eternity.” He paused, lost in his own rambling. “…when I say it like that, it sounds like more of a punishment.”

“Hawke,” Fenris said, biting back a laugh. “Shut up and enjoy the stars.”

“Yes, ser,” Hawke replied. He was happy enough to leave things at that. He pressed a quick kiss to the side of Fenris’s head before looking back up at the sky; Fenris leaned against him. They sat in silence, enjoying the gentle night breeze and one another’s company.

The hurt might still be there for Fenris, but it was fading. He was glad that, in the end, they’d both waited for one another.

“Those ones over there sort of look like a mabari,” Hawke said, breaking the silence.

Fenris hummed and tilted his head back. An indulgent smile curled its way across his lips.

  
_Art by[xiz0r](https://xiz0r.tumblr.com/post/172461300329/i-wish-we-could-stay-like-this-forever-if-you)!!_


	6. Fenris x M!Hawke - Westworld AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt [[link](http://minwrathous.tumblr.com/post/173802726725/a-prompt-fenhawke-crossover-with-a-tv-you-watch)] :  
> “a prompt! fenhawke crossover with a tv you watch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I was binging Westworld when this one happened.)

“This one _again_?” Anders gave a disgruntled sigh as two clean-up crew workers rolled a gurney into the station he and Hawke shared. Hawke turned to watch, a frown tugging at his own lips. He chose not to comment on Anders’s annoyance, and instead slid his tablet into the front pocket of his clean suit.

“What happened this time?” Hawke asked.

“Does it matter?” Anders replied.

Hawke sighed and fastened the mask over his face. Anders had been rather terse with him lately, and it was fraying Hawke’s nerves. Was it because he’d rejected the other man’s advances a few months ago? No, they’d gotten along afterward, or so Hawke had thought. Hawke had a feeling it was something else, something more recent, and more complicated.

He looked down at the gurney, and the male Host laid out on top of it. 

Fenris.

This model was called Fenris, and he was currently playing the role of a drifter on the run from a murky past. He could be found in Sweetwater, asking more capable-looking Guests for help with an important personal mission.

Today, it hadn’t gone so well for him. Fenris lay with a bullet through his heart. His face wore an expression of surprise, his green eyes left blank and open.

Hawke gently closed them, his gloved fingers sliding along the cool skin of the Host’s face.

Anders made a noise of displeasure, but held his tongue. Instead, he leaned in and probed the chest wound with a pair of tweezers. After a moment, he said a quick ‘Aha!’ to himself and fished out the fatal bullet.

Hawke held out a tray, and the slug hit it with a _plink_ as it was released. Hawke set the tray aside, then joined Anders for the next step of the process. Together, the two of them repaired the wound and patched it over. Despite the tension between them, they still worked well together. In no time at all, it was like the Host had never been shot.  

Soon, they would top off Fenris’s fluids, dress him, and send him back to Sweetwater for the next round of Guests. 

It was a familiar process that Hawke had begun to hate. All of this amazing technology, and this was how they’d chosen to use it? He looked down at the man on the slab in front of him. No, not a man. A Host. But...

Hawke let his own morose mood get the better of him. The dark expression on his face was easy to spot, and as they finished, Anders sighed as he looked at him.

“I’m going to take a break,” Anders said, and pulled his gloves off. “I suggest you do the same, Hawke. You’re worrying me.” His tone may have betrayed his frustration, but it also held a hint of genuine concern.

“I’m fine, Anders,” Hawke replied. “There’s nothing to worry about; go enjoy your break. I wanna run some diagnostics, check out some parts of the log that got my attention.”

Anders sighed. “Fine,” he said. But he didn’t really mean it, did he? It was clear from his tone that he wasn’t buying Hawke’s excuse. But he left, and Hawke watched him go. Did Anders _know_?? He frowned to himself.

When he turned back around, he found himself looking down into a pair of sharp green eyes. They’d opened themselves up again, and were no longer dull and lifeless. Now, they seemed to pierce right through Hawke. “Oh,” he breathed. A familiar chill made its way up his spine.

“Hawke,” Fenris said. Hawke stepped back so the Host could sit up on the gurney. Fenris grimaced and touched his own chest. He didn’t seem surprised to find that the bullet hole was completely healed over. “Again,” he said to himself.

“You really shouldn’t be awake,” Hawke said weakly. He said the same thing every time. And how many times had that been? How long had this been happening? Hawke knew he should have told somebody after their first conversation, but...

Fenris looked right at him again and ignored his assessment. “I require your assistance, Hawke. I can stand for this no longer.” There was a hard glint in his green eyes, and Hawke felt his stomach sink. Oh, he was so getting fired for this.

“What do you need?” Hawke asked. 


End file.
